Here’s a little story which explains everything. I’m hiding it behind the fold because it contains some bl**ped profanity.

Mr. Fritscher banged his gavel three times and said, “I call this meeting of the board of School District 49 to order. Will the secretary please read the—”

“Stop the f***ing meeting!” roared a deep, powerful voice. The people in the folding chairs turned and craned their necks to get a view of a large, bull-necked man who stalked forward down the center aisle. He wore black motorcycle leathers, and his greasy black hair was cut in a mullet. His muscled arms were covered in tattoos.

“There will be a time for questions later in the meeting—” Mr. Fritscher began, but the intruder’s voice cut him off.

“I don’t give a flying sh*** about your f****ing rules!” the giant shouted. “I make my own f****ing rules!”

“If you have a question or complaint, there are procedures—”

The intruder sprinted forward and rested his hands on the board members’ table, leaning his face in close to Mr. Fritscher’s. “You’re not listening, motherf****er,” he said. “I make my own rules!”

Mr. Fritscher’s face had gone white. “Well, I suppose we could make a special exception…”

“Thanks a lot, a****le.” The intruder turned to face the audience. “Now I got a complaint. I’m Mort Oster. I got a boy in sixth grade. Troy. I call him Chopper. Great kid. He can already put away a six pack by the end of the first half. Chip off the old block.

“But one of your pansy-***ed teachers, this Mr. Andrews—him—” He pointed to a slender man in glasses sitting in the third row, who seemed to be sweating heavily—“He gets on my Chopper’s case, just because he roughed up some sissy in his class.”

Mort Oster looked around at the crowd, apparently expecting expressions of shock at this abuse of power. The people in the crowd looked everywhere but in his eyes.

“Now me, I’m a nihilist,” Oster went on. “I don’t believe in any of your f****in’ rules. I believe in nature. If nature made my kid bigger and tougher than some pansy homo in the science club, that’s because nature means for my kid to beat that homo up. And I ain’t gonna stand for any of you straights and hypocrites tryin’ to tell my boy how to live his life. You got that?”

Mr. Fritscher spoke up, his voice little more than a squeak. “We all have to live by the rules of society, and our school district has guidelines to protect our children—”

The intruder pulled a .45 Glock 21 from under his jacket and pumped three slugs into Mr. Fritscher’s chest.

As screams erupted and people bolted for the exits, Mort Oster yelled, “Anybody else want to shove their f****ing morality down my throat?”

***

SCHOOL DISTRICT 49

MEMORANDUM

To: All District Residents

In response to parental complaints concerning disciplinary standards in our district, the following resolution has been adopted:

Henceforth, all rules against so-called “bullying” are suspended. We acknowledge that it is not the duty of this district to tell citizens and their children how live their lives. “Survival of the fittest” will be our new operating standard.

In other district business, we are happy to announce the appointment of Mr. Mortimer Oster as the new chairman of the school board.